Superhero Material
by inner harmonies
Summary: Sometimes Rhodey and Tony wonder how they managed to pick each other at all. But it turns out that you can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family. Rhodey & Tony Bromance. Series of drabbles.


A/N: Because I definitely needed a new pet project. This... is for where I can stash away my Rhodey feelings when they come up because I have a lot of them. Welcome to my headcanon and my attempt to bring some praise to one of the unsung heroes okay.

Hope you enjoy and your reviews still send my heart into flight.

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On the day that Tony and Rhodey met (also known as the day that the stars aligned and set the world on a chaotic path towards what would hopefully end up as balance but until then meant a lot of arguments and turbulent winds), there was no sun.

James Rhodes wore his sense of duty on his shoulders—almost literally. There was no sense of hesitation in him when he had applied to MIT and joined in their Air Force ROTC program. It wasn't even up for debate as to whether or not he would be serving his country in the future; it was one of the many things that he was certain about.

Now some people called him rigid, just because there were quite a number of things that he was certain about. Responsibility was one of them, loyalty was another. They were good traits and that couldn't be argued. That wasn't the part people took issue with. For some reason or another, they'd decided that perhaps James shouldn't have a set schedule in his day including mental notes on when would be the appropriate time to take a bathroom break without breaking his stride or going out of his way to his next class. So what if he had a tendency to plan out meals and clothes a week in advance? It was good to be prepared. And if they took issue with the fact that he would absolutely never, ever get stinking drunk at a party, then that wasn't his fault. He just didn't want to be the guy with the lamp shade on his head that jumped into the pool wearing nothing but a pair of leopard print boxers.

To be fair, all of his methods _worked_.

It wasn't as if he was a killjoy no, absolutely _not_, where on earth did you get that idea? No. James was rigid yes, but even he could be uncertain about some things—

One of these things happened to be getting up at 4 AM in order to start his basic training each and every morning. It was a necessary part of the ROTC program, and since he was very strict with himself about his studies and getting a proper amount of sleep (never mind that there is very little James wasn't strict about), it wasn't as if it was difficult.

No, just bothersome to note that even his fellow trainees weren't insane enough to match James Rhodes in his fervor and passion of getting up at 4 when they had to meet at 5.

(Under his breath, he would call them a bunch of pussies but no one would ever hear that coming from the mouth of the ever pristine James Rhodes.)

Another clear example of the fact that he did not in fact have a stick up his ass, and it's not like he's trying to prove a point here, was that he let himself have an occasional trespass. In fact, there was a daily indulgence that he would let himself have in the early hours of the morning where no one else would see—

James Rhodes was a sucker for coffee.

Technically speaking it was bad for his body, he knew, and if he wasn't careful he could crash later in the day and no one wanted to deal with that. Even though it woke him up, it could easily be his downfall… but that was something he was careful about to.

His indulgences would be minor and completely controllable. All variables would be in his hands.

It was as he was walking out of the 24-hour café on campus then that he inhaled the aroma of his cherished beverage. There was only a bit of sweetener in it, since he otherwise appreciated the bitter bite that it had to offer him. Four minutes was the optimal waiting time, not that he ran an experiment on it before or anything—

Then the new variable walked in.

Or rather, stumbled in would be the more correct term. The sun wasn't even out, everything still dim. There was enough light for the lamps that dotted the walkway to have shut themselves off but not enough for any self-respecting lackadaisical college student to be out and about. (Wait, what did that made James then—)

This is the part where the stars aligned.

It was obvious that he was young, too young—which meant that he was Anthony Edward Stark, the child prodigy that had graced the Massachusetts Institute of Technology with his presence. That immediately made James furrow his brow (and neglect the fact that the fourth minute since he received his coffee passed).

He continued to approach with uneven steps, James' own pace completely stopped in his tracks as he observed the boy, for he was a boy without a doubt, approach him.

How he managed to get by without being cold in the morning air, what with his shirt half-way unbuttoned, was beyond him. Then there was the obvious fact that the sunglasses were completely unnecessary without even a hint of sunlight. And perhaps what gave James the most pause was the bottle of beer that the young man held in his hand.

James had been ahead of his class as well and was honored with skipping two grades. However the man, for he _had_ turned twenty-one, was flabbergasted that the apparent genius and brightest mind of his time was this sixteen-year-old haphazardly walking at 4:47 in the morning still unable to unclench his hand and let go of the bottle.

So this was what the world was coming to.

Even though he had not intended to go into engineering or anything of that sort, James was still a top-student in math. Chances are that Anthony was heading back to the dorms which were a ten-minute walk from there and there was no way that his legs were stable enough to go any distance faster than walking. The meeting area for the ROTC program was ten minutes in the other direction.

Yet a fumbling motion caught James' eyes as the younger started to rub at his eyes, pushing the sunglasses up from the bottom, leaving one hazy eye left looking at him. Anthony tilted his head in obvious, inebriated confusion.

On the day they met, Tony Stark had a bottle of beer and glassy eyes.

Rhodey had a growing-cold cup of coffee and a big heart.

"Hey," James finally stepped forward and laid his hand on the other's shoulder. To his surprise, Anthony was still a bit on the shorter side than what he expected. Maybe he still had to grow. "Are you doing alright there?"

"Mm'fine," came the response that was still tinted with beer on the boy's breath. The movement of his shoulders might have been a pathetic excuse for a shrug. "Rough night and all that." A very, very drunk grin. "You know how it goes."

To be honest, James really didn't. But instead he sighed and lightly slapped the budding genius on the back, "Sure do." Just because he was a stick in the mud didn't mean that he doesn't know how to humor a guy. "Well c'mon, let's get you back to the dorms."

Anthony's face scrunched up like he just swallowed a lemon whole, "Don't need security. The deal was no bodyguards on campus. I hate bodyguards. Beat it, stiff." Except he wasn't really in any condition to make a threat except to grumble at James grumpily.

Shaking his head and doing everything he could to forget the time, James shook his head and continued to walk with him, "Nah. No bodyguard here. Just a friend."

An amused noise escaped the other then, "Friend. Right. Do I get to know your _name_, friend?"

"James Rhodes."

"Damn, that's _stiff_." And James wondered if Tony had any other adjectives in his vocabulary at the moment. "There's no ring to it. How about… Rhodey? I like Rhodey."

"Well, there's always Jim—"

"Haven't you heard? I'm Anthony Edward Stark. I'm _original_," the last word was practically spat out.

That managed to earn James' laugh then, which in turn got him a curious look from the younger of the two. "Oh yeah, definitely one of a kind, Anthony—"

"Tony."

Turning to face the other now, James was only met with a view of his own reflection in the sunglasses that still adorned Anthony's face. "Sorry?"

"Rhodey for Tony. I'll trade you. We're supposed to be… friends or something, right?"

"… yeah, right," and Rhodey shook his head, a grin still on his lips. Oh boy, this definitely was not on the schedule for today. "Okay, Tony."

Rhodey's second indulgence for the day was being late to training for the first time ever. No one seemed to believe his story about guiding a drunken child genius back to his dorm though, so perhaps his third one was letting the rumors fly about without setting any of them straight.

That was the first time Tony ever made Rhodey late for something. But it certainly wouldn't be the last.


End file.
